


The Zoo that Got Away

by Leni Jess (Leni_Jess)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: sshg_exchange, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-02
Updated: 2011-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni_Jess/pseuds/Leni%20Jess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus and Hermione find an Unspeakable mystery on the other end of the Time-Turner. Not all wizarding megalomaniacs are Dark Lords or Death Eaters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Zoo that Got Away

**Author's Note:**

> Brief hint of off-stage bestiality. EWE. Also, Severus lives, yay!

Unspeakables were witches and wizards who always had their noses into things, who wouldn't leave them alone until they knew not only the how and why, but also the if not, why not. This made both Severus Snape and Hermione Granger suitable persons to recruit. (They were also politically acceptable in the new Ministry, which was convenient.)

Snape had recovered not only from his war wounds but also from the stress of twenty years of being a double agent, and was, if not amiable, at least no longer hair-trigger of temper and automatically sour and suspicious. Now he was merely rude, autocratic, cautious, and assured of the rightness of his thinking. That last was a constant irritation to his fellow Unspeakables, mostly because his assurance was generally justified.

Hermione Granger was recruited earlier than was customary, almost immediately after she passed her NEWTs, while she was still being interviewed by the Ministry departments which were more normal starting places, even for brilliant students who were also heroes.

The new Minister said energetically to the Head Unspeakable, "Take her and give her too much to do, for Merlin's sake, Sim, before she turns the wizarding world upside down. She'll pay her way."

Sim Brightwell was dubious at being asked to house what sounded like a first class nuisance. "Why should I? What's in it for me?"

"Because she's clever, hard-working, perceptive, remembers things, and generally looks ahead and prepares thoroughly. And she's particularly skilled at both Arithmancy and Charms work."

Sim nodded. The combination of all those qualities in a nineteen-year-old was quite unusual, and the skill combination itself was rarer than he liked.

Shacklebolt went on, "As a Muggleborn she's also anxious to prove herself, but you've had insecure Muggleborns and halfbloods before, Sim; you make them comfortable, and they produce."

That was true. Hard-working and bright people anxious for approval were dead easy to manage.

"I'll give her a trial," Sim conceded. "Now tell me what's the drawback, why you don't want her in, say, DMLE."

"She wouldn't fit well there, and it wouldn't be her first choice: chasing Dark wizards isn't her cup of tea – and she'd probably want to get the Aurors' behaviour reformed. Instanter."

Sim grimaced in sympathy. The Aurors had had things far too much their own way for more than twenty years, and a new recruit trying to get them to straighten up and fly right would be chewed up and spat out, if not quietly assassinated. If she proved to be indigestible, it would be all the worse for all parties. Reform would have to come from above, not below, and Sim knew Kingsley Shacklebolt took it seriously.

"What I really want her kept away from," the Minister admitted, "is pursuing equal rights for all magical beings. There are so many of my departments she could tackle that from – Law Enforcement, Control of Magical Creatures, or even the International Magical Office of Law."

"Why's she interested in that?"

Shacklebolt rolled his dark eyes expressively, and made a face to match. "Because as an outsider herself she can't help noticing how we treat – oh, werewolves, house-elves, goblins, giants – and Muggleborns. And she's got the biggest bump of righteous indignation you ever saw. She can worry about that kind of thing when she's famous for something other than being a schoolgirl who was mad enough to tackle Voldemort just because her best friend was obliged to. I plan to do something about it, but quietly, slowly. I'm not too sure she knows what 'tactful' means, yet.

"Now Sim, you give her a job, train her right, work her hard, knock some of that righteousness out of her without wrecking whatever self-confidence she has, and keep her interest, and you'll have a first-rate Unspeakable. And I won't have the wizarding world upset."

Three years later Hermione Granger finished her apprenticeship. Sim Brightwell had held her to the usual time period, even if she fitted in rather more study and research (and experiment) than was common. Everyone who joined the Unspeakables did half-and-half study and practical work. The latter started with finding their way safely around the Department itself, and Granger had been surprisingly timid about that, though she paid careful – indeed, anxious – attention to all she was told and shown. Of course, there had been her one early experience of the place, which might discomfort anyone, Sim decided, given the mess the children and the Death Eaters between them had left behind. Not quite so good at the unexpected, he had diagnosed, early on, and warned her instructors to test her out thoroughly without making her die of fright. Teach her the skills, give her the experience, let her gain confidence in herself.

He was pleased that it all appeared to work out, and no doubt Granger was happy about it too.

Six months after her permanent appointment, Sim partnered Granger with Snape. Both of them rubbed most of their co-workers the wrong way in surprisingly similar ways, and if they irritated each other too, it should prove to be productive, if occasionally noisy. It was the grit in the oyster shell that produced the pearl, Sim reflected; rub the right two pieces of grit together in almost any obscure mess of problems and you got the pearl of a shining solution.

So Snape and Granger shared a project room, and when they couldn't stand each other any longer retired to their separate offices to sulk or scream or, most often, it seemed, to think productively. If only about how to prove to the other that he or she was right.

Their first encounter after they were partnered was expected to yield some amusement, so several Unspeakables placed surveillance charms of various sorts in their assigned project room.

The watchers first saw Severus Snape stalk into the room, glance tensely around, then relax slightly. They saw him whip his wand out and begin checking for charms and hexes. Immediately several charms failed. A few of his colleagues were still observing when Hermione Granger walked in.

Snape turned and snapped, "You're late," though he lowered his wand so as not to present a threat.

The young woman answered composedly, "Severus, you are neither my teacher nor my superior, though you have more experience as well as being my elder. We're partners. So forget about trying to control me."

"You assume the right to call me by my given name?"

"Partners," she repeated. "Unspeakable common practice. You may call me either Granger or Hermione, and in turn I'll call you Snape or Severus. Your choice. Were you auditing the charms on the room when I came in?"

"Yes," he answered grudgingly, and added even more stiffly, "Hermione. Do you wish to take a turn?"

"Thank you."

She drew her wand and started with the space above the door. Two more charms flashed into non-being. Then she located one which appeared to have the power to evade her wand.

"Wait!" Severus said quickly.

She turned and lifted an eyebrow.

He explained, "Have you seen that before? I haven't. We should contain it, and study it, before banishing it." Almost absently he applied another spell, after which an observer could no longer hear what either said.

The senior Unspeakable who had installed the charm swore softly, aware of the Head Unspeakable's evil grin and his own loss of a ten galleon bet.

Sim Brightwell said, "I'll be interested to see what they make of it."

It took Snape and Granger a few minutes, but working together they soon trapped the charm and cut it off from its maker, much faster than even Sim expected.

"Oh, very nice," he breathed.

That was the last snooper set in the room, though for some time its occupants continued to search it.

At last they stopped, and Hermione used her automated quill to complete the list of disabled charms, and the list of officially-approved charms, like those set to detect fire, explosions, and removal of air. They stored the captured charm for later investigation.

Snape asked, "Why did you start where you did?" His tone was far more amiable than at first; she had earned some respect.

"That side of the room is set up for potions work, with room for elaboration; this side has desk space and basic Arithmancy tools and references; Charms and Ancient Runes too. So you'd probably be over there, and I here; we'd be facing each other if we were talking. The best view of us would be from the door area, with the added benefit that a watcher would see us leaving, or about to, and see our faces, be able to guess our intentions. So," she shrugged, "above the door, out of our instinctive line of sight."

"Very good."

"There's quite a lot of Muggle surveillance expertise; I've studied some of it," she responded, disclaiming merit.

"I started with the wall above your work area," he admitted.

"A spy might wish to focus on you, because your much greater experience makes you more interesting."

Sim, if he had still been watching, might have noted their bonding, and approved Granger's skill in defusing any indignation Snape might still feel.

Meanwhile, the new partners turned to study of the parchments and devices laid out on the long central worktable for their first investigation.

A month later, in the weekly departmental staff meeting, Snape and Granger outlined an interesting surveillance charm able to conceal itself from detection. They gave credit – or at least Granger did – to the unknown original developer, who managed to keep his scowl internal. He had no desire to attract Severus Snape's animosity, even though Snape must feel he and his partner had decisively won that engagement. Afterwards he wasn't consoled by examining the elegant refinements his intended victims had added to his charm.

ψΨωΩωΨψ

It was policy for Unspeakables to be rotated through the principal types of task: investigation, research, development, testing, and even production. No one much liked that last, but there was not a great deal of it, and they all did it efficiently, since it was inescapable, to get away from it as fast as possible. Administration was another matter. Some Unspeakables seemed genuinely incapable of that, which meant that those who were able, if reluctant, devoted intensive thought, at the moments of highest exasperation, to developing charms and magical devices to do as much as possible of it for them. They could all think of better things to do with their time and the Ministry's money.

This had resulted in some very strange artefacts (not least of which was the book, kept at Hogwarts, which recorded the births of all magical children in Britain). Some of these artefacts were subsequently destroyed, like the devices which tracked Floo and Portkey movements, and the wand actions and even locations of all wizards. They created too much data for convenient study, and that data could be used to hurt not just individuals but also the wizarding world itself. Kingsley Shacklebolt had made quite a ceremony of it, a few years after the war was over, and held it in public, for the whole world to see. A number of other things went into the Fiendfyre that day, not all of which were named aloud.

What wasn't destroyed was the last known Time-Turner. That had been surrendered by Augustus Rookwood's youngest daughter in return for amnesty she didn't actually need, never having been a Death Eater herself, or even a sympathiser: Rookwood hadn't been the most congenial of parents.

Head Unspeakable Sim Brightwell had had that tested, most thoroughly and cautiously, before he assigned the task of creating a prototype new Time-Turner, one which was better controlled than by turning an hourglass over on itself, and more flexible (and useful). There had been far more sophisticated Time-Turners in existence, but none of them had survived – or at least had not been handed in. Things that looked like a madman's fob watch, with extra knobs and hands and dials. In the course of nature these tended to disappear into the past. Not everyone who got his hands on one wanted to return to the modern world, and this had been particularly the case during the Voldemort Years, as the two-part war and the interregnum became known.

It took careful specification by a group of Unspeakables and long research and experiment by three of his more conservative staff, but at last the new Time-Turner was ready for testing. Its developers thought it might have some extra qualities besides being able to transport the user to a selected hour, day, and even year. Though they were a little vague about what those qualities might be, they asserted with conviction that the thing was quite safe.

"Yes, yes," thought Sim dubiously, and assigned testing to the pair of his staff most likely to cope with the unexpected, while testing thoroughly and recording results, then reporting without undue hysteria.

ψΨωΩωΨψ

In the early afternoon of a day in May of 2006 Severus and Hermione began the Time-Turner test in a field outside Tinworth. They wanted to hold their test in a place less crowded than London, and not so full of wizards who could express their nosiness as Hogsmeade. A mixed wizarding and Muggle village seemed ideal. They set the dials to take them back fifteen years. That would return them to the period before Voldemort's return, but when Severus was safely cooped up at Hogwarts in term-time and Hermione not due to start school until later in the year. Hermione had Dumbledore's word that meeting oneself was most undesirable, and Department of Mysteries records confirmed that. Nor were they likely to meet, in Tinworth itself, anyone who knew Severus. Since Muggles as well as wizarding folk lived there, it was not much frequented by Death Eaters.

They had prepared carefully, dressing suitably for a mixed society, and were equipped with both Muggle and wizarding coinage of appropriate age. Both had the regulation back-up wand transfigured and concealed on their persons; both had a supply of emergency potions, and a very pedestrian Muggle sleeping bag, reduced in size to an odd-looking handkerchief.

They arrived at the spot they had left after a whirl through time that left Hermione dizzy and Severus disgruntled, so she suspected he felt sick from disorientation too. It was very different from moving an hour or so into the past, which was all Hermione had ever done at school.

"Eat something," he muttered.

She nodded, and drew a packet of sandwiches from the tiny shoulder bag on a thin leather strap that had long replaced her pink beaded bag, though this too had an Undetectable Extension Charm on it. This bag didn't make an oddly loud noise when dropped, no matter how loaded it was. They sat on the grass and ate the sandwiches, and Hermione soon felt much better.

She gave a sigh, looked around the field at the hawthorn hedge blooming on one side, and said thankfully, "It's even a nice day."

"The weather records said it would be."

"Yes, but Muggle records don't cover Tinworth – which is odd. Muggles live there."

Severus shrugged. "Someone with an over-developed sense of privacy. If it's fine in the rest of this part of Cornwall, it's not likely to be raining in Tinworth."

He got up and held out a hand to help her to her feet. Severus was frequently rude, but he was often considerate, too.

They chose to walk into the village, though they could have Apparated most of the way. Unspeakables were encouraged to keep in good physical shape.

As they entered the centre of Tinworth, having passed the outlying cottages, Hermione said, "The newsagent should be about three shops up on the left."

They had agreed that looking at a newspaper, Muggle or wizarding, was the simplest way of establishing their whereabouts in time, though Severus, being Severus, planned to undertake more elaborate checks.

The shop was where they expected, though it looked different from the shop of their own time. And beside it was a newsboy selling from a Muggle milk crate topped with – Hermione squinted – a good supply of copies of the _Daily Prophet_ , with a couple of copies inside the crate. Odd, in several ways. She wouldn't have thought it worth the boy's time to be there all day, given the village's population. It wasn't as if this was a market day, to bring many more wizarding customers in. Nor would she expect a young wizard to be selling a wizarding newspaper where Muggles could observe, or not for longer than it took for DMLE to notice.

The boy picked up a copy and held it so they could see the headlines.

  
_Draco Malfoy AKs nundu Animagus_

 _Magical Law Enforcement Investigates_

 _Neighbourhood Witnesses Praise Malfoy_

There was a thin amount of text below the screamers, and a photograph to one side. It looked as if the _Daily Prophet_ had it in for Draco Malfoy. Who would be – almost eleven?

Quickly Severus bought a copy, and shoved the change in his pocket. Hermione looked at the heap in the bottom of the crate, and, seeing the headline _Nundu Stalks Salisbury Plain_ , hastily bought the two copies remaining – Severus still wasn't good at sharing – and a second copy of the later edition.

Severus pulled her away and said grimly, "First, it's not 1991, but 2021." He pointed out the date on the masthead.

He could have waited until she was seated to drop that bombshell. That Time-Turner must be seriously defective. But at least the _Daily Prophet_ was libelling a man who was fully adult – she could hope.

Without a word they crossed the street to a café that certainly wasn't in the photos from 1991 that Hermione had seen. There had been a café in that place, though not called The Bread Basket, when she was last in Tinworth. Right now she wasn't going to worry about what had happened to it in the years since their time. It seemed to be a Muggle café, but that was hard to tell without careful examination. The wizarding population of Tinworth would surely be used to being discreet in the sight of Muggles, despite the newsboy's behaviour.

They took a table, one that was as far separated from the others as possible, though Severus automatically cast _Muffliato_ so they could discuss the Time-Turner issue (and Draco's possible problem) in private. Knowing Severus wouldn't do it, and knowing also that not ordering would only focus more attention on them, Hermione went to the counter and asked for two pots of tea – camomile for her and Irish Breakfast for Severus; quite a fancy café, this – and a supplementary sandwich each, since the fresh fillings looked enticing, and eating them would allow them to use the table for longer.

She went back to Severus as quickly as possible; the waitress would bring their tea and sandwiches.

"Draco first," she declared, pulling her two papers towards her.

He nodded.

She noticed that the proprietor's name had changed; it was no longer "Barnabas Cuffe, proprietor and editor". There were now three names: editor Iris Coffee and owners Rigobert Cuffe and Rita Skeeter. How in the hell, she thought furiously, had that poisonous bitch managed that? In the years after the war Skeeter had been obliged to tone down her attacks on proven war heroes, even though she still muck-raked as freely through the lives of most witches and wizards of public interest.

"Fucking Rita," she muttered, as she smoothed out the _Prophet_ 's front page.

Severus quirked one eyebrow, conveying both agreement and also the opinion that it was too obvious to be worth saying.

Presumably, however, the editor had more say in what went on to the front page.

The text showed plainly enough that the headlines were misleading, so perhaps only the sub-editor didn't like Draco. DMLE was satisfied with the accounts given by Draco and his supporting cloud of witnesses (who were, naturally enough, his neighbours, in so far as a house as isolated as Malfoy Manor could be considered to have neighbours). Law Enforcement was, however, anxious to find the nundu Animagus. No such Animagus was registered, so he was illegal as well as dangerous. An Animagus with a giant leopard form and no self-control needed to be captured, though not necessarily put down as the animal would probably have been, given its size, and its ability and will to kill. Its breath was said to be capable of poisoning a whole district, if you could believe Newt Scamander's _Fantastic Beasts_ on African magical animals.

The Animagus – who must have been more than slightly crazy – had charged a group of farmers and townsfolk at a market town near the manor, and Draco, who had been bargaining for young cattle, had taken it down with _Sectumsempra_ not _Avada Kedavra_. He hadn't killed it –Scamander alleged it took a good hundred skilled wizards working together to do that, unlikely as that seemed – but he had certainly stopped it in its tracks.

From the photograph some alert bystander had managed to take, which showed the Animagus lying at the feet of someone who might be Draco, the nundu was a good deal smaller than Newt's book suggested, but still equal in size to a man. The moving photograph showed the gruesome flow of blood from the creature's chest, then from the chest of the wizard, as he reverted to his natural form. The young man (or maybe even youth, he was scrawny enough) was of African appearance, as you might expect from someone with an African Animagus form. He was tall, with curly hair cropped close to the skull, but clad in British-style wizarding robes. He had Disapparated without getting to his feet. The photograph didn't show that, but Hermione considered that the _Daily Prophet_ would do well to offer the person who took it a job as a local stringer.

It looked as if Draco was safe enough.

"We cannot risk using that Time-Turner again, even though it's supposed to be able to bring us back," Severus said abruptly, getting back to their primary problem.

"Merlin knows where we'd end up," Hermione agreed.

"However, I am reasonably sure where we can lay hands on a working Time-Turner."

"What, you think we shouldn't go in to the office, and borrow one of theirs? If this model was ever fixed…"

"Who knows what's changed in fifteen years? Or who's in charge? Or who's running the Ministry?"

That was an unpleasant thought. So was the thought that they might need to get back and report before anything would be done about repairing whatever was amiss with the Time-Turner's workings. And until after they got back, there might be no working Time-Turner here.

She shared the thought; no reason why Severus shouldn't worry about that too.

"Calculating the possibilities is not something I'd want to do in the field," he remarked.

"So. Where is this Time-Turner you hope to deprive someone of?"

"Only until we can return it," he pointed out. "Lucius Malfoy had one, though he kept very quiet about it; he didn't want Voldemort to nick it."

"How did he get hold of that?"

"Leaning on Rookwood, who worked in Mysteries? Bribing Fudge? Who knows? Lucius tucked a lot of useful things away over the years, just in case."

"Is he even alive to borrow it from?"

If he was, Severus would have a reasonable chance of success. He and Lucius Malfoy had some time before repaired the rifts in their friendship, just as Hermione had forgiven him for standing by while his sister-in-law tortured her – though she forgave him mostly for Draco's sake. She had come to know him only after she and Severus became partners, and now used his first name as readily as she did those of Draco and his wife Asteria.

"The _Prophet_ said 'Draco Malfoy'. If Lucius were dead, they need only say 'Malfoy'."

"If Lucius still has it, we can make sure Draco is all right."

"True." Severus scowled. "We should minimise the number of people who know who we are, how we got here."

"You wouldn't trust Draco?" That surprised her. She had learned to do so, with much less reason than he to begin.

"Yes, but a secret is always a burden."

That made sense.

"Maybe we could ask him about that nundu Animagus. I wouldn't mind getting the inside story on that. For that matter, maybe he or Lucius would know how Rita got her hands on enough of a share in the _Prophet_ to be listed as an owner on the front page. I'd certainly like to know that."

Severus cautioned, "If you are thinking of preventing it when we get back – better not tinker."

"Take only memories, leave only footprints," she agreed with a sigh of regret. She would have enjoyed stymieing Rita.

"What?"

"Sorry. A Muggle slogan you probably never met when you were a child. Proper behaviour in the wilderness."

"Tread very lightly, too," he assented.

ψΨωΩωΨψ

"The Malfoy Manor wards should recognise us both. However, we may still both be regular visitors in the present day –"

"And it wouldn't be good if the warding charms decided we were not ourselves," Hermione concluded. "So – ring at the gate like anyone else?"

"Or scout in our Animagus forms…"

"Except that yours is extremely nocturnal, and mine is a seabird whose nearest breeding colony is off the northern coast of Wales – and it's breeding season."

One of the few frivolities Severus allowed himself was to fly about in his Animagus form. Since his long-eared owl was both nocturnal and a melanistic version of an already dark-plumaged bird, he could feel unobserved, and himself observe, with the bird's keen eyesight and silent flight. It certainly relaxed him to do so, and Hermione would normally encourage him to follow that impulse. He had had to work hard enough to achieve the Animagus transformation (which all Unspeakables who did field work were encouraged to master), and had been successful only after he had watched Hermione working on her form. She was a somewhat larger bird, since the northern gannet was about the size of a goose, and could fly a good deal further than he. Once she had conquered the fear of flying that she had brought into adulthood, she had exulted in the freedom to glide over the northern seas around Britain, secure in her protected status – provided she stayed away from the Hebridean island of Lewis, where the men of Ness had licence to kill gannets.

She was sorry to argue against his suggestion, but a gannet would look very strange on Salisbury Plain or the high ridge where Malfoy Manor overlooked it, and a long-eared owl would be out of place in the daytime. It was, after all, still only two o'clock. They could Apparate there, and could probably persuade Lucius to accept them quickly – Severus knew more about him than any living being except his wife.

"Yes," Severus agreed with resignation.

"We should read as much of these two editions as possible, before we go."

The waitress brought their sandwiches, and then their pots of tea, and they began to glean as much information as they could from the morning and early evening editions of the _Prophet_.

Hermione broke the silence to observe, from the earlier edition, "Rita can't have been on the masthead for more than a few days. Barnabas Cuffe died less than a month ago. There's an editorial referring to his obituary, but most of it's about how the Cuffe family will maintain its proud traditions. That Iris Coffee woman (what were her parents thinking?) is a grand-daughter too."

"Lucius keeps an archive of the _Daily Prophet_. If you really want to find out what happened before we return, you should be able to consult that."

"Better than walking into the newspaper offices," Hermione agreed. "You know, this does read as if the family was most reluctant to acknowledge that Rita was entitled to anything, no matter what the old man's will said."

"Who shall blame them? I wonder how strong he was in his mind, before he died? He was quite elderly – he had great-great-grandchildren."

"Undue influence? Good luck to them. If he had a large family, why should she get a share? Unless she was his mistress, but that wasn't Rita's style," Hermione admitted, reluctant to grant the reporter any good qualities.

"She preferred blackmail," Severus said dryly. "It requires less personal exertion, in general."

Hermione suppressed a giggle, and ate her last sandwich, turning pages.

"We should keep these papers, take them home."

"And Brightwell will put them in the vaults, under the best locks he can apply," Severus returned. "Knowledge of the future can seldom do good."

"Has anyone had the opportunity to test that theory?"

"It is true for anyone who's gone into the past," he reminded her. "There've been many instances of enormous damage averted only by strong methods. Some people have used Time-Turners with the intent to change their own futures, after all. And come to a sticky end, or been prevented by a surprisingly fortunate turn of fate."

"And occasionally been put down by an Auror as a public danger," she completed. "Still, we should keep these – this is a unique situation, and they're evidence of the truth of our report."

"So will our small change be. Did you bring a camera, by the way?" She nodded. "Then take photographs, too, before we leave here. It need only take a few minutes. That's more useful than delving into Rita Skeeter's doings. The Cuffe family can look after themselves."

"But can the wizarding world, with Rita having some control over the _Daily Prophet_? Yes, I know. If it needs handling, the people here now should do it."

On their way out of Tinworth Hermione snapped away busily. One of her photographs was of the boy openly selling the _Daily Prophet_. He waved at her cheerfully, and she waved back. Perhaps that was a sign of major change, though it was hard to believe that after several hundred years anyone had managed, so soon after their own time, to put a dent in the Statute of Secrecy.

Lucius Malfoy was at home, but took much more persuading than either Severus or Hermione had believed. He seemed to think that travelling into the future by Time-Turner, as distinct from returning from the past to one's starting point, should result in some catastrophic explosion, or disappearance of the traveller from mortal ken. Therefore he was most reluctant to accept them as the people he knew. It was only by patient reiterating of common experiences that Severus got past that conviction.

Naturally Lucius then had to wax sarcastic about what one could expect of Unspeakables, and how intellectuals were prone to making mistakes in practical matters. He was a fine one to talk. Hermione let it run off like water off her gannet's feathers; Severus and Lucius often entertained themselves by finding new insults at every turn.

Severus turned serious, and said, "I certainly should not have attempted knowingly to travel to the future. The Arithmantic equations of that kind of event are said to be exceedingly delicate, easily disarranged, and difficult of interpretation. That's warning enough for me. But whatever our colleagues did that reversed our intended direction, we are here, and we hope to return – with your help. And," he finished, "we shall be strongly recommending that this particular instrument be destroyed without further ado, but I don't suppose for a moment that will be done. Unspeakables cannot resist a mystery. This is a remarkable one, and some rash fool will decide it needs examination."

"Just not by us," Hermione said firmly.

"No," Severus agreed.

Lucius made no bones about lending them his Time-Turner, once he was willing to admit he still owned it. He would, after all, continue to own it, as it would be restored to him as soon as possible, in the past. The only uncertainty was whether he would prove to own two, after they had travelled back to their own time.

He assured them that Draco appeared to be in no danger – Harry Potter himself, Head Auror, had accepted Draco's account of the morning's events.

"I would like to know, however," Lucius said broodingly, "how Britain acquired a nundu Animagus, and where the bugger's gone off to. To behave like that, he must have been seriously disturbed in his mind. One cannot choose one's form, but one can certainly control one's behaviour in it."

He looked at each of them in turn, calculatingly. "You were willing to take steps should Draco be in difficulty, yes?"

Both nodded. Hermione probably looked wary, and was sure Severus felt it. Lucius Malfoy would not have lost his ability to bargain.

"Find out for me where that nundu came from, then, as the price of your ticket home. Though if you agree to do that, I may be able to make a suggestion. Help me make sure there are no nasty surprises lurking in the thickets. Potter can probably find the Animagus, if he's stayed in the country – if he didn't bleed to death. He's quite good." That was said with only a tinge of reluctance; Lucius must be used to Harry Potter's competence in his role by now.

"See if you can discover why he acted as he did, like the true wild animal."

Severus in turn bargained, after exchanging glances with his partner. "If you will support our investigations with whatever we need."

"Money? Not a problem. Clothes, a place to stay, equipment – certainly. Potions? If you need those, you'll have to brew your own – though I do have a stock of Polyjuice," he added delicately, "if you should decide not to travel here in your own persons. And the basic medicinal potions, naturally. I would ask you not to confront either Narcissa or Draco, and certainly not Draco's wife and children – child, only Lyra's here in term-time. They're not staying here; all of them leave for the Scottish property in an hour or two, until this is resolved. Draco wants his family safe; I want to find out who's responsible."

Hermione thought, Yes, Draco might focus on protecting his loved ones, but Lucius had room in his ambitions for revenge, as well as a broader notion of security.

"So I still visit here?"

"You do, as does Miss Granger. And I'm telling you no more of your – ah, future, than that."

"Rot you, Lucius," Severus said, without great conviction.

Lucius smiled that sweet, meaningless smile that had not changed in fifteen or indeed in forty-five years to Severus's knowledge, as he later told Hermione. She knew the smile well, too, and did not press Lucius further. It would be useless, unless they had a better lever.

ψΨωΩωΨψ

Later that afternoon Severus discovered that Lucius had placed a charm on his archive, making earlier years of newspapers and journals inaccessible. He swore and glowered and went through his repertoire of unlocking, unbinding and even destabilising charms, without success. Hermione suppressed her amusement – she would have been just as annoyed if her chosen entertainments had been denied her – and suggested it was time for a break. She took her own advice, running a search charm on the last month's worth of _Prophets_ to locate references to Rita Skeeter. Severus retired to an armchair to sulk over a recent copy of _Potions Monthly_.

However, just as she said, "Severus!" and then repeated impatiently, "Severus!" the door opened and Lucius Malfoy entered.

Hermione sighed and pushed her chair back from the reading table.

As the round table across the room promptly acquired a damask cloth, dishes, cutlery, and far too many plates of food for afternoon tea, she assumed Lucius was accompanied by one or more house-elves.

Lucius looked at their variously unwelcoming faces and said, almost cajoling, "You're getting stale. I can hardly invite you to take a walk in the gardens, as the family's still at home: Asteria hasn't felt well, though they will leave as soon as she's able. Perhaps we could share a light meal and some civilised conversation?"

He must know perfectly well that they could both bury themselves in research for a day at a time without coming up for either food or small talk. Still, Lucius was as hard to evade or reason with, in his way, as Severus.

So Hermione enquired, "Have you asked DMLE if they've found that Animagus yet?"

"Yes; and no. Potter was surprisingly patient – perhaps because it was my son at risk. There's been no sighting of his Animagus form. Someone's studied the photographs that fellow took, and decided he's very young – school age, probably, Potter thinks. And that he may have gone to ground among the Muggles."

"And maybe he bled to death in private, if that was indeed _Sectumsempra_ that Draco used," Severus grumped, but nonetheless he got up and went to the dining table, where Hermione and Lucius joined him.

Severus wasn't willing to talk, so in desperation Hermione asked after Draco's children. "You said they have three children now; there's another girl besides Scorpius and Carina?"

"Lyra; she's nine. But Asteria's expecting more." He shuddered slightly. "Twins. I am so glad they will not be my responsibility."

She knew him to be a fond and secretly indulgent grandparent to the two children she had met occasionally – Draco and Asteria subscribed, as did Lucius and Narcissa, to the very old-fashioned idea that children did not appear at their parents' social occasions, though Scorpius no doubt had a place among the adults, as he'd be in, what, sixth year.

"Do you know what they are?"

"Both boys, the midwitch says." With satisfaction he added, "They have clearly measurable magic. And their parents have promised me, no more star names. They're to be Adrian and Valentine."

Unexceptionable names in both English and Latin, Hermione thought distractedly, though Valentine might have a hard time at school. It was news to her that one could identify magic in an unborn child. In her time, if a parent was too impatient to wait for the first signs of magic, they could make a discreet enquiry to Hogwarts to see if the child was listed in the book of future students. If the Headmistress was prepared to cooperate. She didn't, always: Dumbledore never had. And if the child was not enrolled, the parents had to decide what to do.

She said rather grimly, "So I take it the birth-rate of Squibs has gone down?"

Severus came to abrupt attention, but Lucius said, mildly enough, "Not by much, I imagine. Expectant mothers are ever hopeful – and affectionate besides. Can you imagine, Hermione, trying to persuade Asteria that she should dispose of, for instance, Carina, even before the child, her first daughter, was born? It would be a very – intimate experience, and wouldn't promote marital harmony."

"Yes, I see. So the problem remains. Because with all the affection in the world, many magical parents haven't the faintest idea of how to raise a child born without magic. At least I have cause to know Squib children are not being murdered, or left out for the wolves. Not as they used to be."

"You've researched that?"

"Just on my own time, when it seemed Padma's first baby was a Squib. Which her parents said was her fault, for marrying a Muggle. They nearly parted over it. Padma was in despair, with her family angry, her husband upset, and the child taking all her attention. So I wanted to be able to tell her what her options were, if their fears were real."

"They could always have exchanged the child in the cradle for a Muggleborn."

Hermione frowned, but Severus put in, "The Muggles would almost certainly detect such a substitution."

"A Confundus charm, or even a precisely-applied Oblivation, would deal with that."

"No," Severus said flatly, "it wouldn't. And you might pass the word, in case anyone still thinks that a solution. Muggle newborns are tested for all sorts of things, and records are kept, not by the parents. At the very least, a baby's footprint is taken soon after it's born. There are many other tests, the results of which a wizard wouldn't have the understanding to alter consistently in the records. And any discrepancy would be detected within three months for almost any child born in these islands. And that was fifteen years ago," he finished significantly.

"I see. Well, it's true that I don't know of any cases of substitution in, say, the last fifty years. Though my grandfather helped a Goyle of his day, I was told, to take a child with magic in place of his own – a son, the first one born, whose older sisters resented him quite enough for being the heir to everything, before they found out he seemed to be without magic."

It must have been a long time ago, but Hermione couldn't help asking, "What became of the Goyle boy?"

"The Muggles brought him up, and seemed merely to think their child had been ill for a time. Which probably took more than an Obliviate. He was well, and happy, and loved." He smiled wryly. "More so, I fear, than his exchange brother, but he too survived and in the end flourished. And your friend's child?"

Lucius was as selfish as ever, but he concealed it much better. She answered wryly, "Oh, Arun's a wizard all right. It seems Padma looked after his needs so obsessively that he hardly had to wish for anything, and didn't exert himself to use magic until he was three, when he summoned a blackbird from a tree, to amuse his newborn sister."

Lucius smiled faintly, then looked at her. "One reason such magicless changelings aren't left with Muggles now is that, though having a Squib child is still regarded as a cause for shame, it's possible to arrange an exchange of children openly. Though still very quietly. Hogwarts arranges a foster-witch for any Muggleborn child whose parents wish to keep it, so the child has two families, and is educated in both worlds. And there are, it seems, many Muggles anxious for a child and willing to adopt a wizarding child who is clear of the 'taint' of magic. Sometimes a Muggleborn child is adopted wholly, too, after its first few years, once it starts displaying magic. I cannot imagine how a parent would cope, not having magic him or herself.

"Would you have been better off, my dear, adopted by a wizarding family, and learning your true heritage early? Your parents abandoned you before you left school, after all."

"I behaved very badly to them," Hermione said quickly. "I can't blame them for resenting that, and for fearing what I might do next. But they do write to me."

"From Australia," Severus said, disdainful lip curled.

"Better than no contact at all," Hermione said firmly, then changed the subject to something less painful.

"From what I saw in Tinworth, and from what you say, Lucius, there's now contact between the wizarding and Muggle worlds at more than the Minister to Prime Minister level."

He nodded. "We can keep to ourselves, as I prefer to do; but Draco interacts with Muggles in the area. That market town the nundu invaded was not a wizarding town, but he was able to use magic, without fear of the Obliviators being called in, or of being punished for it."

"And I suppose they weren't all wizarding neighbours who witnessed in his defence," Severus remarked.

"No." Lucius turned to Hermione. "What did you see in Tinworth?"

"There was a wizard boy selling the _Prophet_ openly, outside the Muggle newsagent's. There was an owl flying around to the back of the Post Office. A woman in witch's robes was wheeling a stroller alongside a woman in Muggle dress, with another child. And I had a conversation with the waitress in the café where we had lunch."

"You didn't mention that," Severus observed.

"I forgot, then I thought I'd see what you turned up."

"Concealing evidence." His tone was amused rather than angry, however.

"Just anecdotal evidence," Hermione demurred.

"Tell now," he ordered, reaching for the coffee pot and sitting back.

"There was a little sign on the till; we've seen them for years, about accepting other currencies. 'Euros and US dollars accepted; change in local money.'"

"The American is new, outside of tourist shops in London," Severus observed.

"Yes. But when I turned away something caught my eye, so I looked again. There was another line on the card: 'Galleons accepted.' And under that there was another line, hand-written, and neatly, but it couldn't have been the work of the management: it said 'Use pounds, it's cheaper!' I couldn't tell if the girl was a witch or a Muggle, so I asked her about the rate of exchange. When she said two pounds to the galleon, I could see why someone had added that bit of advice."

"Terrible rate of exchange," Lucius commented.

Trust him to know about Muggle money, even if he had no Muggle acquaintances.

"So I thought. I asked her, then, if she was a witch. She said no."

The girl had said cheerfully, "My dad's family belongs to you lot, but he's what they call a Squib, though they ask us round at Christmas. We go, because family's family, after all, and they drop by often enough and buy something to eat like anyone else, and have a bit of a natter."

Hermione had asked, "Can you read this card, the one about the shop taking galleons?"

"It turned out she couldn't see that last line, so I cast a _Revelio_ for her. She was annoyed, at first, but then she laughed.

"She said, 'That'll be Jimmy Barnstable, the pig. I know his hand. We went to school together, and though his parents are ordinary folk, he's magic, like you, and always into trouble. The times his parents have been fined for it, though it's not as if they could stop him, is it?

"'We might as well leave it there. It's just that exchanging galleons isn't nearly as simple as exchanging euros and dollars. It's not like the Westminster Bank will handle them. You have to go up to London, and hire a guide into that Diagon Alley, and those goblins – I don't like them much. Or else you have to pay someone to do it. All that costs good money, so we can't give the exchange rate Gringotts does. But I'll get my big brother to have a piece of young Jimmy, I will.'"

Hermione finished, "She didn't seem concerned that Jimmy might be awkward for her brother to handle, though he's not a wizard – I asked. So I thought the Statute of Secrecy might be crumbling."

"It's gone, in this country," Lucius confirmed. "We have the Agreement instead. The 'Agreement of Britain'. Yards and yards of it, but the people who drew it up, wizards and Muggles together, tried to cover everything, and to make sure it was fair to all. I can live with it, so I suppose most are contented enough. We don't have to deal with Muggles, and they don't have to deal with us, but the Obliviation Squad nearly all took other jobs. Now, if a Muggle and a wizard have a common interest, they're not risking their lives or their sanity, and can deal with it together."

"Would it be most used in dealing with Squib and Muggleborn children?" Severus asked.

"There's a whole section about that. But some people find it convenient to do business with the other sort, and if the young people want Muggle toys like that computer of yours, Hermione, they can have them – if they'll pay for the protective charms to keep them going. Some wizards do a good trade in that kind of thing." He added, "Draco has a Muggle mobile phone, so does Asteria; he likes to be able to keep in touch with his family at all times."

It wasn't surprising that Draco's protective instincts were still very much on the alert, and a mobile was much easier to manage than finding a Floo in Muggle territory. Draco was certainly enough of a wizard to insulate his own electronic equipment from magic.

Lucius pushed his chair back and looked at both of them, before he said, "I shouldn't have allowed this subject to come up. But since I did, I'll tell you something more, but then ask you to look into it no further while you're here. It wasn't just politicians and lawyers from both sides who negotiated the Agreement. Most of the Arithmancers in Britain were looking into possibilities for over six months. You, Hermione, were part of a team Mysteries set up, since they didn't want their staff working with outsiders. Hogwarts had to get a substitute for Vector from Germany to teach Arithmancy; the Ministry wasn't going to spare her from what was, essentially, conscription.

"All that work paid off, not only in a tight Agreement we've had almost no trouble with, but in the wizarding world's confidence in the arrangement. That's probably more important than being able to see that it was fair, knowing our Arithmancers had tracked down every path of possibility and found it viable, not harmful. Their work added a good many paragraphs, and even some sections, to the Agreement, but that made it safer for all, not just witches and wizards."

"Was I involved in this?" Severus asked.

"No, though you supported it in principle. I think I should leave you to decide how you will – would? do that, though we discussed it several times." Lucius smirked. "Every time you needed an Arithmancer for your current work, you came to me to grumble about Brightwell taking Hermione away from urgent projects. They had you working with, ah, a young man you didn't find very, ah, useful."

Hermione could imagine. No doubt she had suffered from some of the grumbling as well as Lucius.

Lucius spoke abruptly, she thought wanting to get Severus's mind away from a mystery it would be unwise for him to investigate. (She didn't want to think about it herself, either, though it was tantalising – Lucius hadn't even said when this Agreement was reached!).

"I have some information that possibly bears on that problem I set you. Barnabas Cuffe had a private zoo."

"And are you thinking, Lucius, that it might have included a foolish young nundu Animagus trapped by accident in his form, and slowly going crazy?" Severus asked.

"If he had that kind of exhibit, he kept it very quiet," Lucius mused. "But I didn't know of it. Draco mentioned it, this morning, when he was allowed to come home. He'd seen this zoo from his Aethonian – you know how determined he was – still is – to familiarise himself with the county and beyond. A winged horse is useful for that."

Severus nodded. Hermione knew Draco didn't like surprises, and was prepared to take extravagant steps to ensure he wasn't troubled by them.

"So we got out the maps, and it appears this zoo is located at what was Cuffe's estate. Where, I happen to know, he had few visitors beyond his family. His grandchildren, and theirs, came regularly to keep him happy, or at least prepared to leave his will the way it was. He didn't invite others, however – indeed, had he done so, there would have been few to accept the invitation if not forced. He wasn't – agreeable. He had this unpleasant habit of sitting silently and smiling, looking at people, and occasionally rubbing his thumbs against his fingers."

"As if polishing a coin. Ugh," Hermione said. "So presumably there were no visitors to his zoo, any more than to his house."

"And no one to ask questions about it," Severus put in, "or to enquire how he got hold of his – exhibits. Creatures. Whatever. After all, there's no reason to make a secret of keeping wild animals, to enjoy watching them, provided they're properly cared for."

"Barnabas Cuffe was generous to his family, I believe, especially the younger ones." Lucius added cynically, "It ensured they'd keep coming. But he was not otherwise the most amiable of men. He enjoyed seeing people squirm – his junior and middle-rank reporters, any Ministry official who needed his support, the businesses that supplied him, even."

"As if they were only coins, to polish and put in his pocket," Hermione said softly.

Lucius glanced at her sharply. "Yes. He was not above trying to manoeuvre others into a position of dependence. He tried it on me, shortly after the war."

When, they knew but naturally did not say, Lucius had been at his lowest, most vulnerable, most in need of support, and least able to resist strong pressure.

Lucius went on carefully, "I evaded him, but I did not – appreciate the attempt."

Certainly after the war Barnabas Cuffe had been lucky to escape with no more than heavy fines for collaborating first with the rising Death Eaters and then with the corrupted Ministry. Mere libel of relatively inoffensive witches and wizards was regarded as the normal course of business, naturally, since he had always been careful of what he allowed to be said of the Minister in power.

"We are suggesting," Hermione said into the silence, "that it might be Barnabas Cuffe himself who deliberately trapped that African Animagus, and perhaps drove him crazy, too."

"Remembering the man, it's a plausible theory," Lucius confirmed.

"And once Cuffe was no longer there to supervise, the keepers let security become – lax. Or maybe even released the poor bastard," Severus finished. "Well, we can certainly find out."

"If we are going to be Sherlock Holmes," Hermione said firmly, noting Lucius's flicker of puzzlement at the allusion, "we should investigate our theory, rather than wed it out of hand."

"The zoo is worth a look," Lucius said. "But if you are leaving here, can I urge you to use that Polyjuice I offered you yesterday? It's longer-lasting, now: one dose can be made to cover twenty-four hours."

"So long as we don't have to drink a gallon of it to get the effect," Hermione muttered. She preferred to avoid Polyjuice.

"Lucius is right, though: it's a wise precaution."

"Just because I agree with you, I don't have to like it," she retorted.

Severus returned to what Lucius had said. "'Can be made'?"

"One applies a spell to the potion, just before taking it. Only to that dose. Which, Severus, I might as well tell you was your work. And hers. I've found it very convenient on occasion; the Minister has this unpleasant habit of asking me to look into any rumour of resurrection of the Death Eaters. Those who survived," he added dryly, "are not exactly my friends. So kindly pay attention to the matter when you return, ah, home."

"Noted," Severus responded, as dryly. "Your convenience is, as always, a matter of importance to me, dear friend."

They smirked offensively at each other, and Hermione muttered, just above their level of hearing, "Boys' pissing contests…"

The discussion broke up in detailed planning rather than recriminations.

ψΨωΩωΨψ

Hermione continued to be reluctant to use Polyjuice, though they would take a supply with them, in case it was truly needed. She suggested that they could examine the private zoo around dusk, in an hour or so's time, when Severus would appear normal, being an owl. Though her gannet was almost entirely white save for her black wing tips (and large) and hence conspicuous, she could fly high enough to be out of normal visual range, and yet see well herself. So would Severus see well, flying closer to the ground, as was natural to his form.

Lucius said dispassionately, "You're really against using Polyjuice, aren't you?"

Hermione mumbled, "Bad experiences. Turned to a sort-of cat in second year – for weeks! Dreaming of chasing mice! Unable to read, or manipulate things! Not a proper person, and not a proper cat either. No choices. I hated it. Then the next time, we met Nagini, hiding in an old woman's body," (Lucius made a face of extreme distaste), "and I broke Harry's wand. I haven't done it since. Something would be bound to go wrong."

"You got over being too frightened to fly," Severus said briskly. "Maybe you should get over this irrational fear, too."

"I'd rather go as the gannet!"

Lucius said with remarkable patience, "But only a short while ago you were speculating that someone has been applying a spell to trap an Animagus in his or her form. If it was not Barnabas Cuffe … I strongly recommend that neither of you flies over the boundary. You can make discreet observations from a distance, much more safely.

"Imagine what you might do if someone placed the spell on you that may have trapped the nundu Animagus – would you fly off to the Hebrides to breed, forgetting your humanity?"

"Ick," Hermione responded, with conviction.

Severus supported the idea of keeping their distance, and Hermione agreed. The nundu's experience suggested that something could release the trapped wizard, but whether it was lapse of time, distance from the zoo, the inattention of the spell caster, someone else's charity, or another factor, they could not guess and should not rely on. She could observe, but stay safely out of range.

"You don't have to take your Animagus form, Severus. You can fly without a broom."

He shook his head. "Too large, too conspicuous – and rather slow, too, in comparison to a bird's flight, even though owls aren't particularly fast, except on the swoop to kill. No one bothers about an owl passing by."

They discussed the idea of Severus riding a broom to spy out the estate. He could Disillusion himself, and get much closer in than Hermione could as the gannet. But again, they didn't know what defences Cuffe's home or zoo had.

"There's nothing in the papers about Cuffe's zoo?"

Hermione shook her head. She had done a quick, efficient search with a cataloguing spell.

"You could ask Harry if they've looked at it," she suggested.

Lucius frowned. "I'd rather not have the Aurors interfering with this investigation until we know more."

It didn't need saying that normally it would be Hermione who would approach Harry for information, and that this was impossible, here and now.

"I'll come with you, on a broom – I'll take the racing model Draco uses, playing with the children – but keep further back, just watch out for both of you. If you fall out of the sky, I should be able to summon you to safety, or at worst cushion the fall."

Neither objected. Lucius had been nearer sixty than Severus's fifty-five, in the time they came from, and would now be in his mid-seventies, but he was in good health and active; a Muggle would have assumed him to be in his early forties at the most. He was certainly able to be lookout and back-up.

Hermione gave Lucius the camera, since it could be used for long-distance photography as well as snapping close-ups; careful processing with appropriate potions would enhance the images.

They left in good time to arrive at the zoo before dusk. It was not so very far from the Malfoy place. Several of the larger wizarding estates were in the south-west of England, since there was so much space the Muggles left vacant, and the climate and soil were far better than Scotland's.

Hermione always relished flying as the northern gannet, though take-off was an awkward business, given her size and weight. Once aloft, however, she could fly for hours and days and even weeks; gannets tended to winter mid-ocean, rather than on land.

There were few surprises on that first sweep. Comparing visual reports and the photos Lucius had taken, they saw the Cuffe estate was not particularly large, but set amid farmlands which gave it some privacy. There was a house, large enough to cater to a visiting dynasty, but not pretentious. The zoo was easily seen: again, not large, but with quite elaborate cages, with railings above, open to air and rain, as well as around. Besides house and zoo, there was a row of cottages, and several rows of work-sheds, one near the zoo, another near the kitchen garden. Some of the zoo's cages were empty. They varied in size, but most seemed as if they would allow good exercise room. There were no visible shelters, but an area secured from weather, if not observation, was probably available in each cage. There was a large and quite deep water area, a pool and a reed-strewn duck pond beside it, and the river which fed them ran through the far end of the walled zoo. On the pool's margin a stocky woman was tossing fish for a couple of seals, and another zoo-keeper fed a variety of penguins.

The zoo had an erumpent (very clearly visible, owing to its size and unique shape), which was alarming, and something that could only be a chimaera, also not something a private person should be keeping, given its XXXXX Ministry classification. There was no nundu. There was a centaur, which made Lucius hiss when he saw the enlarged photographs. (Apparently in this time the centaurs were somewhat more forthcoming than they had been, but still very easily offended.) Mr Cuffe had clearly been a wizard who went his own way. It was fortunate that he had not yet tried to keep either a dragon or a basilisk, given his penchant for dangerous magical creatures.

Lucius said, "Clearly DMLE – or Control of Magical Creatures – has not inspected this zoo."

"Has anyone? The family will care about the estate; it's substantial, but the zoo?" Severus asked.

"Time to find out who controls it now," Lucius said briskly, and Floo called his lawyer, who returned his call quite quickly. Mr Advowson advised that while Rigobert Cuffe, as the new head of the family, wished to move in with his own family, he had not yet done so. Miss Skeeter was laying claim to some of the estate, in addition to the one-third share of the _Daily Prophet_ already granted to her, which was holding up the transfer of ownership. The word on Law Lane was that she wanted to be bought off, rather than to share it.

"Perhaps we should get in there smartly," Hermione commented, "before it's overrun."

Hermione won the toss, so she chose to be the one to overfly the estate, to get closer to the zoo, and if all seemed well to land, re-transform, and inspect the cages; possibly to interview some of the zoo-keepers. Severus and Lucius would be back-up once more, outside the boundary, this time both on brooms and Disillusioned.

Hermione flew in high, early in the morning, and began a slow circling glide down. It was when she was over the seal and penguin pool that she saw a fish – a very desirable fish – and plunged in immediate pursuit. She never remembered, afterwards, anything but the sensation of diving through the air, feathers close and smooth as silk, exulting in the swiftness of her flight and the certainty that her beak would pierce her target before any mere seal or ridiculous penguin could beat her to it.

She never caught the fish, nor landed in the pool, but was brought up short, abruptly and painfully, as if netted, and found herself sprawling on the courtyard before the entrance to the zoo, bruised by its cobbles. She was pinned there, panicking internally, but unable even to squawk her fear and frustration and pain. Petrified.

Only then did Hermione-consciousness return.

Standing against the wall was a woman – a witch, in lime-green robes, a smug look on her face; and the wand in her hand was levelled at Hermione.

Those robes told her everything, and the gannet's sharp vision supplied an even better view than her own eyes would have done. Rita Skeeter, satisfied with trapping – what, a passing Animagus? Or a spy? Or a seabird?

"Who have we here?" Rita asked, and laughed sharply. Which tended to exclude the seabird.

She flicked her wand imperatively, and Hermione felt rushing over her the spell to force an Animagus out of her form and back into human shape. It hurt, she discovered, but the Petrification Charm still prevented her from voicing her response. Not that she would give Rita Skeeter the time of day, never mind a whimper.

She couldn't see her captor now, unlike the gannet; eyes in the front of her face were blinking at the cobbles.

"Stand up," Rita demanded impatiently, and applied _Finite Incantatem_ to the spell holding her rigid.

Hermione got to her feet willingly enough, though it was more difficult than she expected; despite the braking effect of that magical net, she was sore and would soon be stiff. She twitched the fingers of her right hand, but not unobtrusively enough, and not fast enough to prevent Rita from snatching the wand tucked up her right sleeve in its holder.

"Silly bitch," Rita said contemptuously, shoving it in a pocket, then added, "Lean against the wall before you fall over, stupid. I'm talking to you; pay attention!"

Rita certainly hadn't become any more polite or considerate in the last fifteen years, nor had they been particularly kind to her; she looked like the harridan she was instead of the slightly broken-down siren she had worked so long at appearing. Her formerly golden curls were brassy, her peaches and cream skin rough, and her nails neglected. That last suggested Rita had had her mind on other things, lately. Now, perhaps, she no longer felt the need to charm anyone into compliance.

As slowly as she could Hermione did as she was told. She had her back-up wand, still, but she had better get her breath and some strength back in her bruised hands before she tried to get it out and use it.

"It's you, is it, Granger?" Rita laughed, and Hermione thought uneasily that she sounded – not quite the full sickle, any more. Really, a mad scientist, or at least a mad reporter, was too much to be faced with, this early in the day.

"Not looking your best, little yapping Ministry puppy? You wouldn't get much of a hearing at an elf-rights rally looking like that. No pureblood would take being lectured by such a sloven."

Nice to know, Hermione thought dizzily, she had been trying to do something helpful lately. Given the elves' opposition to being freed, it had probably all been a waste of time. Though maybe this day's Hermione was conducting a more sophisticated campaign than in her mid-teens.

She managed to say, "You try falling out of the sky and see how smart you look."

It wasn't much, and was probably bad tactics to irritate Rita, but Hermione couldn't resist the fierce desire to tell the woman where she got off.

"Shut up!"

Rita's wand slashed at her, and Hermione found herself voiceless. Definitely a mistake to talk back.

"I wonder what you thought you were doing, spying on my little place in the country? Looking for absent friends?"

Oh shit, oh dear, who else was trapped here?

"I should put you in with the chimaera and be shot of you. But even though you're just an over-grown seagull – and probably as noisy, nasty and unhygienic in your habits as any of them – I think I might like to have one in my collection. Or…"

Rita tipped her head on one side and surveyed her, then laughed, alarmingly.

"I know a lot about you, you know. I had been thinking, until I came into my little inheritance, it might soon be time to write my next book – the first book about the Golden Trio, our Saviours. Do you know how boring it is to write that tripe, year after year? Eventually, of course, I'll eviscerate Potter himself in print – and what sales that will have! – but I'd been planning to give myself the pleasure of starting with you." She snarled. "That's personal. _I_ never mind mixing business with pleasure."

Rita paused, possibly in contemplation of malicious fulfilment to come.

"So I've been collecting Granger stories. A lot of your friends won't talk, but some will. You certainly have enough enemies willing to reminisce over a pint – or a glass of Firewhisky, if necessary. Remember the time you turned yourself into a cat?" Hermione wasn't sure she'd kept the signs of her mental flinch out of her eyes. "I heard about it, years ago, but I never knew how you did it until your dear friend Mr Weasley had too much to drink at your wedding."

Christ, she'd married? And who? Not poor Ron, oh please Merlin, please not Ron, who when last seen had been panting hopefully if not very successfully after Lavender, who had learned a lot more than in school about keeping a man on a string.

"Dear me, the always-right Miss Granger made a mistake, and such a ludicrous one!" Rita's look was full of malevolence; she clearly cherished her dislike as much as Hermione did her own of Rita. Right now it wasn't a consolation to think that Hermione had always come out on top in their confrontations, in the end, despite having to bear some libels that never really went away afterwards.

"So," Rita was almost chatty now, "isn't it lucky that I have some Polyjuice? No waiting a month for it to brew. All I need is some cat hair – though there's bound to be some hair in the nundu's cage. One day I'll find out who let him out, and I’ll have his tail as well as his job."

Rita grinned. "Perhaps I should thank him as I toss him out, for giving me an idea. I've inherited a kelpie, you know, as well as that chimaera; it'd be interesting to watch, them on the loose. I should have thought one might get away; I did, after all, when I rode in on the old man's cloak, and he caught me. Not for long, and he paid for it; the fool didn't think to lock me into my form, probably thought I wasn't worth collecting." Rita showed her teeth in a snarl rather than a grin.

The thought of being, not just part-cat again, however embarrassing, but part-nundu, was appalling. That would also be likely to give her continuing nightmares new life. And the idea of those monsters unleashed on the unsuspecting wizarding world… Hermione swallowed down her revulsion, but she made an involuntary movement, and the _Petrificus_ slammed down again.

"You just be patient and wait there!"

She would indeed be patient. Severus and Lucius should be aware she was in trouble, and be taking steps to invade the Cuffe estate (but with the appropriate caution for traps and hexes, she was almost certain, having been rescued from ignominy once before by Severus). They would get her out. But to save Severus the trouble of brewing the complex of potions he had used last time to retrieve her from the partly transfigured cat state, she would do her very best to avoid swallowing any Polyjuice potion, especially with added nundu hair. Rita would not have even that momentary satisfaction, if Hermione could help it.

It was a pity that she didn't have Severus's ability to use wandless magic, to get herself out from her frozen condition, but her second wand was still tucked into her hair, looking like one of several useless hairpins. If she could just lay her hand on that, Rita would find that Hermione too could throw a powerful _Petrificus totalis_.

Rita stalked away. Did that mean she couldn't summon either her flask of Polyjuice or the nundu hair? Or had she gone to decant a single dose?

Now that she wasn't focussed on Rita, Hermione could hear sounds from the zoo behind her, through the open gates. Someone – she thought it was the centaur, from the deepness of the voice – was cursing, thoroughly and formally. If that was aimed at Rita, she'd better watch out, unless the zoo cages suppressed the ability to use magic. Centaurs didn't need wands. Also, the universe tended to remember a centaur's expressed wishes, when they were as sincere as those sounded.

The creatures in the pond, just inside the gates, seemed to be eager for breakfast, going by the barks and squawks. There was also a scary mix of roaring, hissing and bleating that must be coming from the chimaera. Hermione would have shivered, if she could. Maybe it too just wanted breakfast. She would certainly rather be a temporary part-nundu than served up to that implacable beast.

Between the bruises from her rough landing and the pain of muscles locked by the hex, Hermione was starting to feel extremely uncomfortable, and to worry that if she got out from under the hex she would be incapable of swift and strong movement to protect herself.

At last Rita returned, with a glass goblet in her hand, smoking with freshly decanted Polyjuice. She must have been keeping it under a Stasis charm. She set it down on the cobbles, then another silent twitch of her wand brought to her hand a swatch of hairs, which were black and golden to Hermione's straining eyes.

Rita looked straight at her and grinned, then picked up the goblet and ceremoniously added two hairs, letting the others drift to the ground. Then she came right up to Hermione, crowding her against the wall. Rita's free hand pried at her frozen lips, but could not open them, though the force she was applying would probably leave Hermione with bruises there, too, later. Rita frowned, then backed off a little and muttered at her wand, watching Hermione closely the while.

Hermione felt her neck loosen, which was an enormous relief, and her eyelids blinking, furiously, trying to moisten her eyeballs. Her mouth opened in belated response to Rita's hand, but Hermione could close it again, and did so, folding her lips. She managed not to rotate her head on her neck. Rita might not be aware of how much movement she had restored. A Healer could use a _Petrificus_ very precisely, to immobilise a patient, and ease just enough of its effect to smooth a dose of medication down a relaxed throat, without allowing the patient's head to turn away, or teeth to bite, either, but Rita's control was not so fine.

Rita put one hand on Hermione's shoulder and lifted the goblet to her lips, tipping it. Hermione kept her mouth shut. She didn't fancy biting into glass, but if she could spill the Polyjuice that way, she would: get enough of a grip to tear it from Rita's hand, let it fall to the ground. Could she do that?

Her captor snarled, "Open your mouth, Granger, before I hex you silly!"

Hermione didn't bother pointing out that since Rita planned to hex her silly anyway, there was no reward for her in complying.

Rita's hand fastened in Hermione's hair – still wild, still copious, though usually now bound back partly in braids and partly in a chignon that never lasted out the day – and pulled her head down with a vicious jerk, and bruised her lips with the goblet's edge. Hermione tossed her head, though it hurt her scalp. Some of the dose of Polyjuice lapped over the edge of the glass, and internally Hermione shrieked, "Yes!"

Rita stepped back, hauled off and slapped her hard enough to bounce her head off the stone wall. Even half-blind with pain, though, Hermione managed to keep her mouth shut, after the first reaction, which Rita wasn't close enough to take advantage of.

Rita took hold again, and shoved the goblet towards her mouth once more, forcing its edge between her lips. Some of the foul stuff entered her mouth, and Rita pinched her nostrils; frantic to avoid it, Hermione was still forced to swallow. Then, rendered both desperate by this failure and hopeful by her previous success, Hermione fastened her teeth in the edge of the goblet and swiped her head sideways and – beautiful sight! – the goblet left Rita's hand and broke on the stones. Pity it didn't shatter.

Rita's next spell struck her to the ground, unconscious. She didn't see Rita pick up the broken goblet and tip the small amount remaining between her slack lips, stroking her throat roughly until she swallowed, pushing back into her mouth the small amount that dribbled from its corners.

ψΨωΩωΨψ

When Hermione woke she knew at once that someone who cared for her was at hand. She was lying on a bed, on clean-smelling sheets, and the ache of her bruises and cut lips was very considerably eased. She put a hand to her mouth to see how far the glass cuts had been healed, and felt soft pads and claw tips instead of fingers. She nearly screamed, but managed to control it. The small amount of contaminated Polyjuice Rita Skeeter had forced on her had been enough to transform her. Damn, damn, fucking damn. Swearing in her head helped to master the panic.

Someone leaned over her, and Severus's voice asked, consciously gentle, "You're awake? You're going to be all right, Hermione."

She made a sound she expected would be a cat's yowl, but after the first inarticulate gasp, words came out, though they were distorted by the fangs she could now sense at the sides of her mouth.

"Where a' I?"

A classic enquiry, but Severus answered her without making fun. "Barnabas Cuffe's house. Just for now. We'll get you back to Malfoy Manor soon, but Lucius is doing a quick sweep of the zoo. Skeeter," his voice hardened, "is locked and spelled into an empty cage."

"Ho' she can't transfor' – 'eetle could get out easy."

"She's locked out of that, too. Open your eyes, Hermione."

Reluctantly she did so. Her vision was blurred, everything in shades of grey. Then Severus moved his hand, to tilt her head to one side, and her vision sharpened on the moving object. She'd seen that effect before, of course, and wasn't impressed. Being a cat might be all right if one chose it, as Minerva did, but Hermione had had enough of that fifteen years ago in personal real time.

He was looking at her eyes. Probably they were slit-pupilled. She asked, "Eyes?"

"Like a cat's, just as you have the fangs, the fur, the ears, the paws, but superimposed on a human structure. And a tail," he added delicately.

Hermione growled surprisingly low in her throat, startling herself, before she asked the most important question. "Can you 'rew those 'otions, like last ti'?"

He understood her. Really, it was only plosive sounds needing both lips that were distorted. "Lucius can get me the ingredients; there's nothing rare or difficult. Also, it will go much more quickly for you this time. You won't be trapped for months, but more like for three days."

"Why?"

"Because I was interested enough to experiment, Miss Granger, after you made your foolish error, and later that year developed a version that acts inside a few days, on any idiot who mixes animal scraps into Polyjuice."

"Good," she whispered, and closed her eyes.

"You're quite handsome," he said, but not as if he expected it to console her.

This time she snarled.

Presumably she sounded robust enough to bear with a little speculation, for he went on, "You're nowhere near the size a nundu is reputed to be. Just as that Animagus wasn't. The form might have been immature, which would explain your smaller size, modified as you were from the animal's hair. But if the Animagus was, say, a youth rather than a man, as Potter suggested to Lucius, it might also explain how Cuffe caught him in the first place. An experienced wizard would be more cautious, I would have thought."

"Not Rita?"

"No. She couldn't even get into this house, by the way. Cuffe had some pretty wards on it, but Lucius and I took them down. She knows the spell to force an Animagus out of her form, as she did with you. It was obvious, even from the distance we were at, that she'd done it, not you. But whatever she might have said to you – she's not very coherent just now, and certainly doesn't want to cooperate – she doesn't know how to force someone to remain in their Animagus shape."

"You looked at zoo? Saw chi'aera, she said kel'ie, too."

"Lucius overflew it – safe enough, there wasn't a canopy transformation spell over the place. Told me he could see a chimaera. There's a horse in the river at the back; that might be the kelpie. He was going to talk to the centaur; if he was prepared to be sensible Lucius would have released him. But not if he was going to charge off declaring war, or for that matter reporting at once to the Ministry."

Severus's tone made it evident how unlikely he thought that last; Hermione agreed with him.

"Later, once we're sure you're all right, he and I will both go around the zoo, testing for other Animagi. With all due precautions. Perhaps not releasing them, if their behaviour seems violent. Magical Creatures Division usually has a specialist on tap who can release a trapped Animagus, though Lucius and I can both probably do it.

"Once you and I are away from here, Lucius, speaking as if he were the only one involved, can report direct to Potter, tell him what Cuffe had set up, and ask him to monitor the situation and the freeing of any prisoners, provide a Healer if needed. No doubt there'll be some actual magical creatures that need to be placed somewhere more appropriate, or repatriated, or simply freed. Potter and DMLE and Magical Creatures can worry about what to do with the actual animals."

"Kee'ers feeding seals." She wasn't going to try to say "penguins".

He understood. "Seals don't seem a particularly unusual trophy."

He asked, "How much Polyjuice did you take, can you guess? I saw some of it had been spilled."

"Two three 'outhfuls."

"Ah. Then your recovery may not even need potions. It'll be interesting to see if that transformation by adulterated Polyjuice does in fact need a full dose to effect a permanent change, or if it will pass off like a normal Polyjuice dose."

Tough love, that was Severus.

He added, "A pity you didn't manage to bite her."

"'it glass."

"I wondered, when I saw how your lips were cut." He scowled. "She hit you."

"Hard," Hermione agreed. "Twice. Landed hard, too. You gave me 'otion for 'ain?"

"Yes. No reason not to. Do you want to rest?"

"No. Go zoo, see."

After a moment he nodded, and helped her slide off the bed.

She got to her feet, thankful to be able to stand upright, though her feet were peculiar, having the great cat's pads and claws, but also the human structure that made walking upright possible.

"'etter than last ti'," she announced.

"Yes. Your hands are more capable of manipulation, too."

"'irror," she demanded.

"Are you sure?"

"Know worst." She added grimly, "Headscarf. Gloves."

Confronting herself in the mirror, Hermione catalogued the slit-pupilled eyes, the fangs that changed the shape of her mouth even when it was closed, the relatively small ears, forward set and pricked. She still had a human nose, though, and chin. For that matter, she still had her hair, though it was a mess, and the ears rising out of it looked even stranger for being surrounded by human hair. Her own ears were gone, and her skull looked odd without them. There was dappled fur on her throat and down onto her shoulders, though she couldn't distinguish the colours. Her body was probably covered in it; her forearms and hands certainly were, though her face was free of it – perhaps an analogy to a cat's nose? But at the moment she was concerned with what others would see. The changes seemed, as Severus had suggested, to be superficial rather than structural; not bone and muscle deep. Except for her eyes. That was worrying.

If she wrapped a scarf tightly around her head, like a hijab, she could hide those ears and the fur. An al-amira style cap and scarf would be even better, but she wasn't sure Severus could transform pieces of cloth into those without knowing how they were constructed. She couldn't use a wand, not with her hands like this, even though Severus had put her own wand, that Rita had taken, into her robes pocket for her when she got off the bed. He would have to put the hijab on her, too, but at least that could be made with ordinary Western scarves. There should be some in the house, and if not, he could certainly transform those from any suitable length of cloth.

"Headscarf, fine," Severus agreed, "but gloves aren't necessary; they would only restrict your ability to handle things. Shoes, yes."

Barnabas Cuffe proved to have had a stock of plain silk scarves that only needed enlarging somewhat. When Severus was making his second attempt to capture all her hair as well as those damned ears, he happened to stroke his fingers across the margin of one ear. She made a soft sound of involuntary pleasure, surprising both of them.

He understood that, too. "Sensitive? I didn't hurt you?"

"No. Nice."

She rolled her head on her shoulder, bringing it closer to his hand, appalling herself, asking to be petted. Like bloody puss. Without hesitation he rubbed behind her ear, firmly, then scratched, more lightly. He had known Minerva for a long time, of course.

She withdrew her head from his hand, rather sharply; but he accepted it, letting his hand fall. She resolved she wasn't going to do that again, and nor was he. If he wanted to stroke her, let it be her hair, or her cheek, still her own.

After a few false starts Severus managed to arrange a couple of scarves around her head, fastened under her chin, with her hairpins holding them down tightly. Severus's revised potions had never been tested; they might not work quite as he expected. Not that she would have the nerve to question his expertise aloud. If she was going to be stuck like this for a while… Another nightmare thought, being deprived of free will and control and forced into dependency. But her hands were better; perhaps she could learn to use them, this time – and would, even if it did take only three or four days to be restored to herself. Perhaps someone could make her a sort of Baby Bunting cap, that fitted closely all over her head and buttoned under her chin. Or a wimple. She smiled at that thought, for the first time. Hermione might be single, and contentedly so, but she had no intention of becoming a nun.

After examining her distorted feet, Severus altered her shoes. The cat pads were hard, but her human feet which ended in them, instead of toes, were as tender as ever; she wasn't going shoeless if she could help it. It would be too warm for a cloak outside, and Hermione didn't want to look as if she was hiding, even if she was. Lucius Malfoy was going to see her like this as well as Severus, even if no one else ever did (and no doubt fucking Rita had already looked her fill and enjoyed it). No one was going to be sorry for her, any more than they were going to pet her, she resolved.

She was also going to work on improving her wandless magic. She could do small things – the most important was Summoning her wand – but no real spells, certainly not transfiguration. If she was stuck like this, it would give her something to do. She wasn't going back to their own time like this, either. Sim and everyone else could whistle for this part of the story. They could spend as long here as it took for her to recover; Lucius would continue to give them space and company, and his house-elves would provide meals. And make her bed, and tidy her clothes. Damn again.

No, she shouldn't be thinking like this, stupid dispirited panicky thoughts. Trust to Severus's skill. And, however it turned out, practise wandless magic, and keep on doing so.

Get out of here and look at the zoo, and see if there was anyone worse off than she was. It seemed horribly likely.

ψΨωΩωΨψ

Visiting the zoo proved to be a gruesome experience, at least for Hermione. Severus was still a great deal tougher than she, and Lucius, provided his family wasn't involved, tougher still.

The smaller seal, presumably the female, flopped towards the strangers, zeroing in on Hermione, and made a low moaning sound.

"Do you think?" she asked uneasily.

"Yes," Lucius replied. "There's not much doubt. She prefers to keep away from the male."

Hermione had watched a number of wildlife programs on television in her time; she thought, but could not summon the energy to try to say, It's only at breeding season that the males approach the females, and only then that they're welcomed.

"This is spring," Lucius pointed out, "and presumably she should be receptive, especially since there doesn't seem to be a seal pup."

"Jesus we't," Hermione muttered under her breath. This was getting nastier by the minute. "Get her out, now!" she demanded.

The two men exchanged glances. "What if she's hysterical, or seriously disturbed?" Lucius asked.

Severus responded, "Then put her under, until a Healer can attend to her properly. We can't take care of anyone damaged physically, let alone mentally, but she's suffering now, Lucius. We should put an end to that."

Hermione patted his arm in silent gratitude, then held out her hands – her paws, so the Animagus could see she too was a victim, and sympathetic. She reached out to stroke the female seal's head. The creature pulled away when she saw the claws, but then she let Hermione stroke gently down her head with the palm of her hand, holding what had been her fingers away.

Severus performed the charm.

The seal vanished with a choked moan, replaced by a witch in dull robes which might have been brown, barefooted, who curled in on herself and hid, for a long moment, from their sight. The male seal honked aggressively, and lumbered towards them, but Lucius warded it off with a Keep Away spell without even thinking about it, it seemed. Disgruntled, it plunged into the pool.

Then the witch sat up and looked at them, scrubbing tears from her dirty face. "Thank you. Thank you." She looked at Hermione. "What did that monster do to you, that you've got cat's paws? And eyes?"

"That," Severus answered for Hermione, "was a different monster. We can fix her up. Look, we're going to summon Magical Law Enforcement soon, to take care of this disgraceful mess. Is there any reason you'd rather not be here? They can help you, though."

The witch gave a dreary laugh, and said, "They can give me a ride home; I don't think I can Apparate, not yet." Then she rummaged in her robes pockets, and actually smiled crookedly when she held up her wand.

Hermione made the effort to speak to the woman. "Go to the house, find a – a roo', lie down. Rest. Or a 'athroo', and wash. Get clean. Wait. It won't 'e long 'efore you can have real food again."

"No more fish!" She cast a look of dislike at the big seal sliding effortlessly through the water, ignoring the intruders, since he could not banish them. "No more sex, either," she added darkly.

"Really sick," Hermione agreed.

"What's your name?" Lucius asked. "If we can identify everyone who's been locked into Animagus form for Magical Law Enforcement, they can get in touch with your families at once."

The witch nodded, and rose. "Amy Capper. From Ottery St Catchpole. I live with my son and his wife. Don't know how long I've been here. They'll have been needing me to help with the children; I'll be glad to get back." She turned towards the gates and said again, over her shoulder, "Thanks."

Her gait was unsteady at first, but by the time she disappeared from view she was walking like a human being.

"Next?" Severus asked.

"That puffin, over there by itself, I suspect," Lucius replied, gesturing.

As they approached it, the bird didn't wait for them to arrive. It hurried towards them, making urgent, deep, creaking Aaarh sounds, and clacking its large bill (probably colourful for breeding season, Hermione thought; she could distinguish the stripes).

Severus didn't delay. The man revealed was dressed not in robes but in work trousers and shirt, oiled sweater and boots; he fell to his knees, then reared back his head, gripped his thighs, and screamed, "Out! Out!"

Then he forced one hand into his mouth, silencing himself, and shook, crouching down.

Looking at the sweater's pattern, Hermione thought, Cuffe didn't find you anywhere near here.

"Fisherman," Severus said harshly, "from somewhere well north of here."

After a few minutes of uncertainty they walked away from him, leaving him some privacy to regain his self-control. Lucius led them to a cage with a white peacock.

"Relative of yours, Lucius?" Severus asked.

Hermione had never thought Severus very good at lightening the atmosphere with a joke.

Lucius smoothed out his instant scowl, replying, "No one's missing."

The peacock screamed and erected his tail defiantly as Lucius spelled the cage door open, but it didn't approach them.

This time Lucius provided the release spell. The peacock turned to a blond boy, who might have been pretty once. He tried to rush them and push out the gate, screaming quite as loudly as he had done in peacock form. Severus pushed Hermione behind him, while Lucius slammed the gate shut. The boy grabbed the bars and went on screaming, just sounds, no words, his face distorted, his hands clawed.

"Do so'thing!" Hermione exclaimed.

Lucius coolly silenced the boy, then forced him to the ground, then put him to sleep. No Stunner, Hermione was thankful to see.

Lucius said, "He'll need the Healers, even if the other fellow manages to pull himself together."

There were two more Animagi. One was a hawk, who looked at them with nearly mad eyes even when he was a man again, then re-transformed and took off, spiralling away as soon as he reached a thermal. Neither Severus nor Lucius made any attempt to stop him.

"Too late for hi'?" Hermione asked, subdued.

"Possibly," Lucius replied, "though he may come back to himself, given time. Only one more, I think, though perhaps we should test every creature, to be sure."

The last was a Scottish wildcat, who snarled and backed off, and when transformed retreated to the back corner of her cage, snarling still. Severus locked the door decisively.

They all felt it was fortunate that the horse was not a human being too, though indeed it did seem to be a kelpie. They stood well back while Lucius tested that.

Lucius said, "Come and talk to the centaur, Severus; convince him not to make trouble for the rest of us because of what Cuffe did to him. It sounded as if he had known you, when you taught at Hogwarts, and remembered you favourably. He's giving us a chance, at least: waiting in that little grove by the side wall."

Hermione would have gone with them, but looking around she saw a woman hovering uncertainly at the gates. A woman not in a witch's robes, but in Muggle working gear, dressed much as a keeper in a Muggle zoo would be. Hermione moved towards her, and hesitantly the woman approached.

"You're a kee'er?" Hermione asked. "Sorry, I can't talk right."

The woman nodded. "Edie Cuffe. And not even the chief keeper, though I've been here long enough." Her mouth twisted. "Squib, you see. Not to be trusted."

Not one of Barnabas's children, Hermione thought; a grand-daughter, maybe, or even great-grand-daughter; she looked in her forties, and if she was not protected from ageing by magic that was probably her real age.

"You knew what he was doing, keeping Ani'agi as if they were – not even ani'als; toys?"

Edie Cuffe shook her head quickly. "No, no! Not until I found out about young Kwame. He used to talk to me, you see – quite safe: only a Squib. He told me about that, one day: quite a triumph, to have a nundu Animagus in a cage."

Hermione sorted out who "He" was without difficulty.

Now that she had someone who would listen to her, the zoo-keeper went on talking, convulsively.

"Made me sick. Animals, all right, they don't feel like us, though the way they pace, some of them, they need freedom too. Magical animals – that's …" she rocked her hand from side to side, miming uncertainty. "I didn't mind so much about the chimaera; nasty thing. And the kelpie – he fed it a couple of times, so it didn't try to leave."

Hermione screwed up her face in revulsion, feeling her ears twitch even closer to her head under the binding scarf; Edie nodded.

"He wanted a real nundu. Then someone told him about the ambassador's son who was going to be doing his NEWTs at Hogwarts. He went up to London specially. Not that I knew, then; just thought he'd managed to import one at last."

"You found out?"

"Poor little bastard. Nothing I could do about it, though. Tried to talk to him, not sure he listened, after a couple of months. But when that wicked devil died – No one told us, see, but we found out in the end, when the lawyers asked us the other day if we could get into the house. Couldn't, of course. The head keeper, he's a wizard, pushed off right away. Maybe he knew. The other bloke, he's a Squib too, but not family. Then that night I let Kwame out, 'cause I knew no one was left who could punish me, and off he went." She grinned, remembering a great pleasure. "Went straight past me, at a flat run, full out. Never saw the like! He just lofted over the wall, didn't bother with the gates. Marvellous!"

Her happiness disappeared. "Then last night we got the papers. I saw what poor Kwame had done. That terrible photo! Couldn't blame Malfoy, but that kid, bleeding on the ground. Only they said he changed back, and Disapparated, so he can't have been as badly hurt as all that. And the spell was off, somehow. I couldn't have done anything about that, of course, but I thought he might find someone to fix him, if I just let him out."

"'alfoy was u'set too, I heard," Hermione said quietly, finding words coming more easily, now, even if her speech was as hampered as ever by those useless fangs. "The Aurors decided it was only a 'oy – a child, you see. He didn't like the idea of hurting a child – he has one that age of his own – but you don't think a'out that when a leo'ard's charging you."

"Kwame doesn't blame him either," Edie said, then bit her lip, and looked dubiously at Hermione.

Hermione's relief must have been evident, even with those enigmatic cat eyes she was cursed with.

"He ca' 'ack here to you? He's safe?"

"Only friend, see," Edie explained simply. "His mum and his dad would be in London, now – or turning the country upside down, looking for him; but he was scared, after getting into trouble like that." She added, in explanation, "He was supposed to be staying with distant family, getting used to the country before he went off to school, but he wandered off. You know how boys do."

Hermione remembered, very clearly, how disastrously Harry and Ron had wandered, on occasion. She nodded, understanding too the urge to find something more interesting than where you were, cooped up with relatives, and probably lonely and homesick.

Edie added disapprovingly, "Too young for any of it: Apparating, becoming an Animagus, being left on his own in a foreign country with people he didn't know. His dad thought he should be independent, but he didn't _look after_ him properly. Bet he's sorry now, 'cause he'll have read yesterday's papers too, and know something's badly wrong, not just that Kwame's disappeared, gone off by himself."

"He's – not confused, now?"

Edie rocked her hand again. "Likes to stick close to me. Drinks lots of tea. Ate too much chocolate. Gone off meat, but he filled up on pasta; scarfed down his veg. Talks – like I'm doing now, to you," she added ruefully, "letting it all out."

"It's safe," Hermione vowed, and Edie seemed to understand she was serious.

"Those wizards with you, they're something, aren't they, undoing all that foul magic."

"Can't undo effects, though."

"That poor bloody woman," Edie agreed, "but she seemed to have her head screwed on all right." Diffidently she said, "Helps, having someone to look after. Like me, with Kwame. I'll be sorry when he's back with his people, but I haven't really tried to talk him into that, yet."

"Let Healer see hi', first?"

"Could be," Edie agreed, "though I'm not that fond of Healers, myself. Old Barney nagged my mum for years, reckoning something could be done. Couldn't, of course. Dad was nearly as bad, and of course they all did what the old man said; all the family does."

"All over," Hermione reminded her.

As Edie nodded, looking more cheerful, as if she'd suddenly realised she too was free, Hermione thought, She can help us, too!

She began cautiously. "Edie, those wizards I' with. You heard of Lucius 'alfoy?"

"That's who that blond is?" Edie looked apprehensive.

Hermione said dryly, "Yes, that 'alfoy. He's good at 'ay-back of _all_ sorts, though." She wasn't sure Edie understood that, and it was very important, so she re-phrased. "You hel' hi', he hel's you. You need to get away from Cuffes, yes?"

Edie brightened, and seemed willing to consider that, so Hermione went on, "He was worried the nundu was sent to Draco – his son. Asked us to hel' hi' find out. Now, we know not; just accident." She smiled wryly, knowing the fangs became more visible. "Lucius thinks the universe is out to get 'alfoys. He's right, so'ti's. He's talking to the centaur now; co' and talk to hi' yourself? I think he would like to talk to you; you can hel' each other."

They found Lucius and Severus still talking to the centaur, outside the grove. The centaur had his arms folded across his broad chest, but he didn't look belligerent. "I agree, though I think it would be justice if the Skeeter woman were locked in her own Animagus form – a beetle, you said? and left to make her own way. But that would make all of us her equals. I could not stomach that, any more than you, Severus Snape. Your Aurors will –"

Then he saw the women approaching, and hissed, "That wizard did abomination; look at her! Made what she should never be. And you, woman, keeper, what did you do for the prisoners of his perversions? I should kill you, now, since he is dead already and has met his fate."

Hermione stepped in front of Edie quickly. "No! She's a Squi', his grandson's child, a victi' too. She didn't know, until she found out and let the nundu go. What could she do, herself su'ject to his 'agic?" Damn, but suitable words didn't always come to her mouth.

Lucius said quickly, "Carus, this is Severus's partner, Hermione. And you?" He turned to Edie.

Edie stood straight, her head high. "I'm Edith Cuffe, Mr Malfoy. Under-keeper here, these twenty years and more. Used to be, this was an ordinary zoo, just with pretty animals, you know? But he changed, went bad, sick at the heart like an old tree dying, rotting, full of malice."

Carus the centaur seemed to appreciate the simile, and looked on Edie with some toleration. "You were always courteous," he admitted.

"I apologise," Edie said steadily, "for what I could not help, and for the help I did not give."

That formality did her no harm with Carus, or with Lucius Malfoy either.

Carus bent his head in acknowledgement, then turned to Lucius. "So, it's settled. And should the centaurs of the forest of Ynis Aderyn wish to deal with wizards, I know where we may come."

Lucius replied, "Fare well, Carus; you and all yours. My son will speak with you, if I am gone when you call."

"And I will have more care for the snares of idle wizards," Carus remarked, looking much younger suddenly.

Hermione realised that he was probably no older than Firenze had been when she and her friends first met him in the Forbidden Forest (which still probably made him as old as Severus); but this centaur had black hide and bronze hair over it, and looked like iron, where Firenze had looked like molten silver.

With no more ado Carus headed for the gates, lifting a respectful hand to Severus, saying, "Teacher, fare you well."

Severus returned a wizard's salute.

If he had known Severus already, the two herds must have regular contact, even if Carus's herd had none with wizards. _Ynis_ was Welsh for island, she knew, and she didn't think Severus had ever been to Wales, not while he was teaching.

When he was out of their sight Lucius said, "So, Hermione, we negotiate with a Cuffe heir now, do we?"

Edie laughed harshly. "All I ever had of the old man was a bare living wage and a room somewhere out of the way, since I turned eleven, to make myself useful and earn my bread, wherever he chose."

"Squib or not, you dress like a Muggle; was that his choice?" Lucius asked.

Edie's lips curled. "No. Mine. I was in a Muggle zoo once, and saw how they dressed, so when he put me to work here I got my brother to take me to the shops in Southampton, where I could find proper working gear. I haven't worn robes since they told me I wasn't to go to Hogwarts."

Severus spoke for the first time. "You've been defying him all your life, almost."

"Yes," Edie looked at his narrow face warily. "Not that he ever noticed. I used to wish they'd given me to Muggles, as they did in the old days, even if the Muggles thought we Squibs were a fairy's child wished on them." She shrugged. "Too late now."

"Is it?" Hermione asked. She looked direct at Lucius. "Edie can hel' us, Lucius; she can hel' _you_."

All three of them looked at her doubtfully, used to disregarding what a Squib could do for a wizard.

"You were going to tell Aurors, tell Harry, call a Healer – Edie could do all that. Do' the old villain in," she said, suddenly fierce. "She'd have a good reason; they'd 'elieve her. You don't have to get involved at all. And later, when it's quiet, you can hel' Edie, maybe set her up with –" she stumbled over 'Muggle', and substituted, "in the other world. Or get her a 'lace of her own in our world."

"Yes," Lucius absently stroked a long strand of his hair, as palely shining as ever it had been. "But Miss Cuffe, who released the Animagi from the locking spell? We wouldn't reverse that, even if we could."

Edie shrugged. "He's dead; maybe his magic wore off. Spells do when wizards die, don't they? How should I know? I'm just a Squib." She grinned.

"Some of them are okay," she pointed out. "That woman, Amy, she said her name was. I reckon she could tell lies with the best of us. And that fisher fellow; he's sleeping now, but I reckon he'll wake up a lot better."

"The peacock boy?"

"Mad, poor sod," she said shortly. "Who'd listen to his ravings? Who else was there?"

"The eagle Animagus," Severus said, "but he's gone. The wildcat; she's almost as bad as the peacock boy. The nundu, wherever he is. They both should be found; they need help. No others; we checked."

"Kwame's got help; he's got me. The nundu," she added. "I know how to get onto his parents. He's told me; he's just a bit scared of the row there's going to be."

"If he's all right now, why did he attack those people, just yesterday morning?"

"I'd only let him out of his cage a couple of nights before, and he ran away, just like that, didn't wait or listen. I couldn't turn the spell off. He was probably – pretty mixed up." She looked at Lucius. "Your son held him off, stopped him hurting anyone. He's a good kid, and he's grateful, even if he did lose a fair bit of blood. Would your son have somehow loosened Barney's spell, that kept him the nundu, so he could be a boy again?"

Lucius looked doubtful, but Severus said reflectively, "For various reasons, we have always tended to undervalue Draco's command of magic. He knows the spell to force an Animagus out, and an Animagus with a nundu form is far more likely to get to Britain than a nundu, which is just an animal, and does not think or plan. He might not have _thought_ that, but in the back of his mind he may have seen the possibility. He may have thrown at the creature every damn spell he could think of. Draco doesn't panic, exactly, but he believes in trying everything, in a tight place. And his spells do what they're supposed to."

"If he let Kwame free," Edie said warmly, "I'm sure the boy will forgive him every drop of blood on his robes." She added ruefully, "I don't know how I'm going to get the blood out."

"Leave it for the Aurors to see," Severus directed. "There's clean robes enough in the house, and you should be able to get in, now. Your young protégé won't have to go around in bloody robes any longer than it takes to walk in there."

Edie said at once, "He's not; I made Jack lend him an old set. Jack's the other keeper." She added thoughtfully, "Now, he might like to clear out. Squib, see. I don't suppose the Aurors you want me to call will be surprised he's got out while the going's good, rather than get involved."

Severus said, "If you freed this boy, and then the locking spell wore off the rest of them – or possibly all of them; no one should suggest Draco might have done it – that's a very fortunate coincidence, and Potter will probably notice, but he might be grateful enough to keep his mouth shut, to have a fairly quiet mess to clean up. He won't need telling that, whatever was wrong here, it wasn't your doing, Miss Cuffe. We shouldn't do anything else to let Potter think some witch or wizard has been here, intervening, and then slipping away." He turned to his partner. "A good thought, to ask Miss Cuffe to manage this."

"Miss Cuffe," Lucius asked, "are you happy to talk to Mrs Capper and the fisherman, explain what they should say – and not say? Or would you rather we did it? I can Obliviate that little bit of memory, of course, to be quite safe, if you'd prefer."

Hermione and Edie together said, "No!" and Severus pointed out, "However carefully you did it, Lucius, a Healer trying to make sure their minds are mending would notice the trace. Don't make evidence for Potter or anyone else."

"I bow to your expertise," Lucius said dryly, "as well as to Hermione's revulsion. And Miss Cuffe's."

He turned to the keeper. "Very well, if you think you can handle it, it's better if you do so without our participation. Have you Floo powder, or can you get some? And as for afterwards –"

"There's Floo powder in the Keeper's office; I can use that to call the Aurors. They can get a Healer in, but I'll ask for one, just in case they don't think of it straight away. As for afterwards, what should I say, at the fireplace?"

Edie certainly wasn't slow.

"Malfoy Manor. I will have the wards set to admit you, and warn the house-elves you are an expected guest." He didn't say, 'That you are a Squib and they'll need to work around that', which suggested Lucius was indeed grateful, not just seizing on Hermione's proposal to avoid trouble. "This boy – will he be distressed when the Aurors come, do you think?"

"No surprise if he was," she retorted. "But if I'm to Floo the Aurors, and try and get hold of the high cockalorum – that's what you want, isn't it? Harry Potter himself?" They nodded agreement. "I'm certainly going to speak to his parents. They'll come for him. I don't think the Aurors are going to hassle the son of the ambassador from Burkino Faso."

"An ambassador, Merlin," Lucius muttered. "There went our chance of it being a _quiet_ mess, Severus."

"He won't want his son in the news," Hermione said. "That could hel' to hush the whole thing up. And the Cuffe fa'ily certainly won't tell the world, in their own – _sod these fangs!_ – _'rophet_ of their wicked old grandfather."

"Luna would love this story for _The Quibbler_ ," Severus said, "but unless she's changed enormously, she won't let it out, if she discovers it: she's compassionate."

Hermione could see him swallowing the impulse to ask Lucius if Luna still edited _The Quibbler_ ; that little hint that they didn't belong here was quite enough of a mistake.

Severus went on, "Miss Cuffe, I suggest you Floo the ambassador as soon as possible, before you have Aurors all over the place."

Edie nodded. "Get Kwame out, before some officious fellow decides he needs to be in a cell," she agreed.

At last they could go back to the house.

Lucius suggested that Severus should Side-Along Apparate Hermione back to Malfoy Manor, while he would stand by until Edie had summoned Kwame's parents and then the Aurors.

Hermione was glad to leave. She wished Edie well, but felt very tired, now that all the worrying over other people was done with. Lucius joined them soon enough, in his potions workroom. He placed urgent orders with Slug and Jigger for the ingredients Severus needed for the rest of the set of potions – three in all – to restore Hermione.

She watched Severus working. The room wasn't terribly well equipped, but it was clean and well kept, the supplies it did have were in decent order, and he could begin at once on the base for the first restorative potion. She was glad he didn't want to wait until twenty-four hours had passed to begin work, in case the Polyjuice transformation wore off then.

Hermione went to bed still half-dressed, even to the scarves, though she clawed them off during the night: her ears itched, intolerably, from being bound against her head. At least she didn't claw at her clothing or her pelt during the nightmares that several times woke her. When she was fully awake she was glad of that. It would be embarrassing to have to ask Severus to mend her clothes, or Lucius to supply new ones, and she wasn't sure if the skin under her fur was as tough as a true cat's.

In the morning she woke early, and though she hadn't had enough sleep she thought it better to see if her cat paws could handle her wand somehow, and practised, until it was time to join Severus for breakfast.

It would be maddening to need help for practically everything she wanted to do. She was relieved she could clasp the wand between her paws and use it. Later, Severus watched as she worked with it, and suggested, though mildly, that she refrain from trying powerful spells. She had to agree. Right now what she wanted most was to be able to get her clothing off and on by herself, and clean her pelt. She didn't have a cat's tongue, and on the whole was glad; a loofah squeezed almost free of water did a good job on the dense fur, and by the next morning she could groom herself effectively, using the wand, even if the paws cramped towards the end. Her spine, less flexible than a cat's, also resented the activity.

That night Severus gave her the first potion. It was predictably foul-tasting, but she didn't care for that.

Three days later Hermione was herself again.

She said, trying to keep her voice from trembling, "Thank you, Severus. Oh thank you. So much."

He waved dismissal of her thanks, but didn't seem able to speak himself. He swept her into a sudden hug, and she hugged him back with a will.

When he did speak he said, sounding angry, "Don't ever do that again, Sula."

He had never called her that before, the old name for a gannet. How long had he thought of her that way?

"No, Severus," she answered, tucking her head under his chin and hanging on tight, glad to be held, and warmed, and worried over. Partners indeed.

ψΨωΩωΨψ

They allowed themselves a day to rest, and to discuss what their report should include. It seemed odd, for a little while, to be worrying about a mere Time-Turner. They agreed that the whole business of Barnabas Cuffe's unpleasant magical entertainments, and Rita Skeeter's attempts to exploit them, need not be shared. Apart from photographs of Tinworth, and sample coinage (most of which was dated 2015 or later), and the copies of the _Daily Prophet_ , there was little hard evidence to file.

They agreed, however, that Lucius Malfoy's support, and loan of a working Time-Turner, should be acknowledged. To ensure that it would remain a loan only, Severus proposed they should depart from Malfoy Manor, rather than from Tinworth, and that once they were back in their own time they would deposit the Time-Turner in the house, near but not in its usual place (identified by Lucius), before they left, very quietly, for London. For preference without advising the Lucius Malfoy of their day of their presence. They would also take care to travel back at night.

Hermione would have liked to know Rita Skeeter's fate at the hands of a much-tried Harry Potter and the new management of the _Daily Prophet_ , but she would find out, eventually. In the mean time, she could dream of her life-long tormentor locked up in beetle form, possibly in a bottle with holes in the lid. The Wizengamot might go for that, after all. She wasn't going to worry about who she married, though she had ideas of what she would like. Plenty of time for that, too.

Sim Brightwell wasn't pleased, the next day, to find that his experimental Time-Turner was so spectacularly defective, but the Department of Mysteries had overcome greater obstacles to success in its time than a mere reversal of direction. He handed it back to its makers with a scold, and locked the hard evidence, and the written report, away under deep security, as both Hermione and Severus had expected.

He dismissed them for a well-earned week of leave – Hermione in particular looked tired, but Severus had evidently been stressed too. If he was surprised that Severus Snape put his arm around Hermione Granger's shoulder and Side-Along Apparated her away with him, while she positively snuggled into his side, he was too tactful to refer to it later. He did notice, however, when they returned to work, that the partnership seemed to be firmer, and the exchange of sarcasms much reduced. He had seen that happen before, and in general it didn't interfere with the working relationship and the business of the Department of Mysteries.

ψΨωΩ The End ΩωΨψ

**Author's Note:**

> Written May 2010 for the sshg_exchange 2010, for ozratbag2.Thanks to the mods, who waited patiently for me to turn this in, late again. Enormous gratitude to my beta reader slashpine, who was generous and tolerant and firm, as well as encouraging, _and_ sparking with ideas, to the betterment of this story and particularly of its structure. Thanks also to my brother, who checked it over after midnight, and brought several problems of expression to my attention.
> 
> This story was vaguely inspired by [this news report of a private zoo abandoned, and what came of one of its creatures](http://www.abc.net.au/news/stories/2009/11/16/2744002.htm) [warning, pic of dead creature], [or here](http://www.ntnews.com.au/article/2009/11/16/101241_ntnews.htm) [warning on pics again], and [followed up here](http://www.ntnews.com.au/article/2009/11/17/101511_ntnews.html) [no problem with pic]. A more recent example of a dubiously-managed private zoo is [private zoo discovered at home of Kyrgyz ex-leader](http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/8646915.stm). The kings of England used to keep lions and leopards in the Tower of London…
> 
> Responsibly managed zoos present enough problems! (No, I'm not saying do away with them; just, informed ethical behaviour is good.)
> 
> /soapbox
> 
>  _Original prompt_
> 
> Both Hermione and Severus travel into the future (the reason is up to the author). What do they find? Is there a new Dark Lord terrorising the magical community, or is the Wizarding world somewhat more utopian? Animosity, friendship and/or romance. Any rating.


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